


Soft and wet;

by sepulchre



Series: Lewd Fantasy [3]
Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Bathtub Sex, DFAB reader, F/M, Kinda, Muscle Worship, i wanted this to be fluffy and then it got body worship-y, reader is master attendant, so uh....oops?, thank you once again to the fff discord!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 12:30:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15796563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepulchre/pseuds/sepulchre
Summary: Your love is soft & wet-----------------Bathtime with Bamboo Rice.





	Soft and wet;

**Author's Note:**

> You know those lush bottles that say stuff like 'if you don't know how to use shower gel, invite someone into the shower and have them demonstrate'? This is like...the fic equivalent of that. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> Also, Soft and Wet by Prince is a good song.

Adjusting to life in Tierra, away from the jungle, was a learning curve for Bamboo Rice. While he did miss the sweltering heat, the relative seclusion, the rustle of leaves and the calls of animals, he had to admit that there were upsides to the whole event, too; meeting his new Master Attendant was the main one, of course.

Still, learning to adapt to mainstream society was one of the toughest challenges he had yet to face. In the jungle, there was no need for modesty, yet here in Gloriville it was apparently "improper" and "indecent" to wear only the barest essentials of clothing - you, his Master, had gently told him as much one morning, red-faced in shock after he had come down from his sleeping quarters to help open the restaurant, almost completely bare save for his scant loincloth. He had watched in confusion as you covered your flushed face with trembling hands, almost pleading with him to go and find some other clothes; twenty minutes later, he had acquired some trousers by way of Tempura, and had covered his torso with one of his Master's spare aprons, allowing the frankly adorable blush on your face to die down somewhat before the morning's first customers arrived. 

His hair was another point of contention; almost as long as he was tall, and matted in a way that was practical to avoid snagging it while in the jungle, but now just seemed unsightly. He had tried his very best to wash the tangles out of it (he was, in actuality, no stranger to bathing despite the ragged state of his mane - although he did prefer to do so in a nearby, secluded stream, much to his Master’s apparent chagrin) and had even patiently sat cross-legged on the ground in front of his Master while you broke several combs trying to brush the snarls out of his hair with as much delicacy as you could muster. Eventually, half out of fear for hurting Bamboo if you were too rough with him, and half out of resignation, you gave up for the time being, instead offering to run a bath for Bamboo that evening once the restaurant had closed, in the hopes that warm water and soap would make his hair easier to work with. He eagerly agreed, perhaps misunderstanding your intentions as he told you, in his typical loud and boisterous fashion, that he couldn't wait to bathe  _ with _ you - a statement that you didn't have the heart to correct. Still, the offer seemed to put him in a good mood as he worked, helping you and Milk in the kitchen. 

 

True to your word, once the restaurant had been closed for the night, and everyone had retreated to the lodgings you kept on the upper floors, you had made a beeline straight for the bathroom. You filled the tub up mostly with hot water, adding cold afterwards to make sure it was a comfortable temperature, and even drizzled in some of the fancy rose oil you bought on your last trip to Nevras. Once everything was prepared, you hummed to yourself in satisfaction before going to fetch your favourite food soul. 

You showed Bamboo to the bathroom, gesturing to the filled bathtub, steam gently rising into the cold room from the surface of the warm water. You pointed out the soap, told him to get undressed and get in, and then prepared to make a speedy exit before you got an eyeful of what was not-so-fully concealed beneath his loincloth. 

“Hey! Master Attendant!” You froze at the sound of his voice, one hand on the doorknob, ready to leave. There was the padding of feet across the floor, followed by the slight sloshing of water before Bamboo spoke again. 

“Aren't you gonna join me?” You could hear an almost innocent sincerity in his voice, and even without looking you knew he would be gazing at you with those beautiful, wide green eyes of his. You tentatively turned to face him; he was half submerged in the bathtub, arms crossed on the rim of the tub, chin resting against his forearms: damp tendrils of his hair coiled below the water like seaweed, while the rest of it cascaded over the lip of the tub, almost grazing the floor. He fixed you with an earnest smile and you decided then and there to throw caution to the wind; you were his Master Attendant, and god help you, you were going to  _ attend _ to him right now. You closed the door, locking it with a soft ‘click’, and shed your clothes almost too eagerly, the fabric dropping to the floor with a soft thud. You stepped out of the garments, removing your underwear and allowing them to join the rest of the clothing on the bathroom floor as you stepped closer to the bathtub. Admittedly less gracefully than you probably would have liked, you climbed over the side to join Bamboo in the water, situating yourself between his bent legs, one of his ankles on either side of your hips. 

Sighing gently, you allowed yourself to relax into the warm water somewhat, watching as Bamboo did the same. You allowed your eyes to slip closed and savour the sensation; it had been a while since you last had a relaxing bath - with your busy schedule, bathing had become a quick and practical affair, with no time for luxuriating in the experience, hence why your expensive bath oil had yet to be opened. 

At the sound of soft splashing, you opened your eyes to see Bamboo, blush colouring his cheeks and seemingly insistent upon looking anywhere but at you, staring intently at his arm as he made slow passes across the skin with an almost completely dry bar of soap. The look of concentration on his face almost made you giggle. 

“Need some help?” Your voice snapped him out of his reverie, and he looked up at you almost sheepishly. 

“Huh?! O-oh! Yeah, please.”

He reached a hand out to pass you the soap and you took it from him, repositioning yourself to kneel between his thighs, much closer to him than you were before. You could feel his long hair coiling around you, damp strands brushing against your midriff as they swayed in the water. A heavy blush coloured his face, all the way to the tips of his ears, and you were sure that yours matched his; whether it was from the heat of the water, or the situation you were in, you couldn't answer for certain. 

Wetting the soap and lathering it in your hands, you made gentle, slow passes down his sculpted chest, feeling the water-slicked, hard muscle glide beneath your fingertips. 

It was on the fourth or fifth stroke of your hand down his body that you dipped past his navel below the water and felt him tense and shudder. Tentatively, you withdrew your hand as he breathed out a laboured sigh that bordered on a moan, a sound which caused your jaw to tense and insides flutter in arousal.

“Ah… Master Attendant, that…. that tickles!”

“Oh, sorry Bamboo Rice! I’ll be more careful-”   
“N-no, it’s okay!” He interjected, his usually loud voice now barely more than a hoarse whisper. “Uh...can you keep going? Please?” 

A staggered breath caught in your throat as you nodded wordlessly, continuing to stroke your soapy hands across the broad expanse of muscle that was Bamboo’s chest. When your fingers grazed over his nipple, he groaned, catching his bottom lip between his teeth as he arched up into your touch.

You repeated your ministrations before trailing your fingers back down his stomach, delicately brushing over patches of scarred flesh, your hands eventually coming to rest on his thighs which were still either side of your hips. Rough-hewn, calloused hands gripped your waist as Bamboo tried to pull you closer to him, almost picking you up in his desperation to grind his half-hard length against you. He gasped and mewled as he rutted against you, your nails tracing along the weathered skin of his outer thighs.

When he did pick you up to pull you into his lap, it was with very little effort, as though you weighed nothing, and while his expression was strained, it was for an entirely different reason. He placed you down on his lap, your body almost completely out of the water. The soft, plush flesh of your ass was resting on the firm, knotted muscle of his thighs; the apex of your thighs was pressed flush against the base of his rigid cock; he was using his grip on your waist as leverage to rock your hips against his.

“H-hah, Master Attendant…” He gasped out, as your hands slid up his body, coming to rest on his shoulders. Nodding wordlessly in answer to his unspoken plea, you tangled your hands in the damp mass of green hair at the base of his neck, pulling him in to press a tender kiss against his chapped lips.

His hands moved down to grip your ass as he lifted you again, bringing you down to impale you on his cock with one fluid motion. You moaned against his mouth, feeling the tension in his jaw as he grit his teeth. He started with slow thrusts, you moving your hips to meet his motions. The lewd sound of skin-on-skin mixed with the splashing of water and your moans; Bamboo buried his face in your neck, muffling his groans by nibbling and biting your collarbone and the base of your throat.

With a roll of his hips that had you almost seeing stars and made your grip on his hair tighten, you gasped out a command for him to go faster. He complied, hips snapping up against yours with an almost bruising force, cock hitting spots deep inside your slick inner walls, making you arch your back, your chest pressing against his sculpted torso. He shifted slightly, leaning back and drawing his legs up so he could get deeper - and  _ oh, God _ , that felt amazing!

One of your hands disentangled itself from his hair, moving down your body to toy with your clit and that - combined with the heavenly sensation of Bamboo’s length driving deep into your core, and his mouth leaving increasingly harsh bruises and bites against your neck - was enough to make you reach your peak, toes curling and face contorting in pleasure. Bamboo fucked you through your orgasm, his grip on your hips tightening until he, too, joined you in ecstacy, spilling himself inside of you with a roar of your name.

You collapsed against his firm chest with a soft, fatigued sigh and a splash of water, and he carded one calloused hand through your hair. 

“The water’s getting cold.” You mumbled, and he hummed in response. 

“We should get out; we can try and deal with your hair later.” Another soft, non-committal hum from Bamboo. Then, his arms wound around you and he hefted you out of the bathtub, gently setting you down on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, before climbing out himself. You picked up one of the towels, wrapping it around yourself before handing the other to Bamboo.

Surprisingly shyly, and with an expression like a lovesick puppy, the usually boisterous food soul pulled you in for a soft kiss. 

“Master Attendant, can we bathe again tomorrow?”


End file.
